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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763558">Hearts From Iron, Minds From Steel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pathstotread/pseuds/pathstotread'>pathstotread</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2009-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2009-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:53:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,984</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pathstotread/pseuds/pathstotread</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"She resolutely stays in her quarters when he transports back to Earth, lying on her bed and listening to the shipwide transmission informing everyone that Dr. McCoy has left the ship, Dr. M'Benga has taken his place, effective immediately, Kirk out."</p>
<p>McCoy leaves the Enterprise. Chapel is not fine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>McCoy/Chapel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hearts From Iron, Minds From Steel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Previously posted on LiveJournal in 2009. It hasn't been touched since then, so forgive any errors.</p>
<p>Title from "Three Wishes" by The Pierces.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Christine Chapel has never exactly been known for her even temper. Sure, she does her job exceptionally well, keeps her wits about her and doesn't let emotion get in the way. It's been too many years of school and clinicals and illness and surgeries and death for her to let her judgment be clouded when someone's well-being is in her hands. But when it comes to situations outside of med bay, well, she's the first to admit that "hothead" would not be an inaccurate description.</p>
<p>Still, she doesn't think she's ever wanted to rip someone's guts out quite as much as she does Leonard McCoy's at this precise moment.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>The day starts out innocently enough. It's a quiet shift, quiet enough to let her mind wander to more pleasant thoughts while she does inventory. She hasn't seen him all day, which isn't unusual; they aren't the type of couple to flaunt their relationship, especially not on shift. McCoy's made it a point to treat her exactly as he does the rest of his staff, although, when it comes down to it, she rather hopes he <i>hasn't</i> been screwing the other nurses in his spare time. She's just started to wonder if she can catch him for dinner when her first patient in an hour comes in, looking sheepish and mumbling something about a training session gone awry.</p>
<p>Christine suppresses a roll of her eyes and a sarcastic comment about men and their egos, choosing instead to pat the hapless man's uninjured arm as she leads him to a bed. With a promise to return, she crosses the room for supplies. She's ransacking the hyposprays when Dr. M'Benga calls out her name.</p>
<p>"Yes, doctor?" she replies.</p>
<p>"I'll need to see this week's duty roster," he says. "And a technician should be coming in tomorrow, so just let him into the office when he gets here. You've got the key."</p>
<p>Christine wrinkles her brow, sure she's missing something. "Dr. McCoy's office?"</p>
<p>"Ah," M'Benga replies, a light dawning in his expression. "You haven't heard."</p>
<p>"No, I suppose I haven't," Christine says with what she considers infinite patience. <i>Get to the point</i>, she thinks, although she's more and more certain she doesn't want to know where this is heading.</p>
<p>"Dr. McCoy resigned this morning. Something about a dream job back home. The Captain's promoted me to Chief Medical Officer."</p>
<p><i>I was right</i>, she tells herself over the rushing in her ears. <i>I didn't want to know</i>. "Oh. Congratulations." It's the first thing that pops into her head, and though she knows it sounds hollow, it's enough to please M'Benga.</p>
<p>"Thank you. I'm thrilled at the opportunity."</p>
<p>She nods. "Patient," she blurts out. "Dislocation. Sparring gone wrong. I should get to it."</p>
<p>"Everything all right, Nurse Chapel?" Christine almost laughs. As much as they don't advertise their relationship, it's not the best-kept secret the Enterprise has ever seen. It would just figure that M'Benga would be the only one aboard with no clue.</p>
<p>"Fine," she replies, struggling to keep from snarling the word in his face. She turns sharply on her heel, back to the ensign with the dislocated shoulder who still needs her, even if nobody <i>else</i> does.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>They've been dancing around each other for a stupid amount of time, clinging to some sense of professionalism on her part and a divorceė's wariness on his. But that's been over for months; they've been good together, better than good. It <i>works</i>, between them. And the fact that he's going to mess that up without so much as consulting her, well, it really fucking pisses her off. She stews about it through the rest of her shift, vacillating between <i>maybe there's an explanation</i> and <i>I'm gonna kill him and make it look like a medical tragedy</i>. By the time she makes it to his quarters and uses his code to enter, she's pretty firmly settled in the "medical tragedy" camp.</p>
<p>He isn't there, which doesn't help matters, in her mind. She sits at his table in the semidarkness, like she's waiting to strike. Maybe she is. She can't quite work through her resentment enough to care.</p>
<p>After a time, she hears the beep of the keypad signaling his arrival, and has to tamp down the urge to meet him with a knee to the groin.</p>
<p>"Christine?" he calls from the entryway. He orders the lights on, his face softening into what passes for a McCoy smile when he sees her. "Hey, b-"</p>
<p>"You're going to 'baby' me right now? Really?" Her voice sounds like she feels, hard and unforgiving.</p>
<p>McCoy looks confused for a moment before it hits him. He drops his PADD on the table and sighs. "I take it you've heard."</p>
<p>"Yes. The new CMO was kind enough to tell me the news, since the old one was too busy being a <i>dickhead</i>."</p>
<p>He reaches a hand to her shoulder and she slaps it away, standing up and stalking to the bookshelf. "I was going to tell you," he says to her back.</p>
<p>She scoffs. "Before or after the bon voyage party?"</p>
<p>"Tonight," he insists. She can feel him come up behind her, but he keeps his hands to himself, which she thinks is a wise move. "Nothing was final until today. Should have known that nothing stays secret on this godforsaken ship."</p>
<p>"I guess you're well shed of us, then," she snaps. He's never liked being out in space, she knows that much. She's always figured the good outweighed the bad, but then, it's not the first time she's been wrong.</p>
<p>"That's not what I meant and you know it," he retorts. "You gonna let me explain, or do you just want to be pissed at me for a while? I can wait."</p>
<p>"I can do both," she tells him, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest. His hair falls over his forehead when he angles his face toward hers, attempting to get her eyes to meet his. Her fingers itch to brush it back in place.</p>
<p>"I was offered chief of surgery at a hospital back home. It's a good job, and it's close to Jo." His eyes plead with her to understand. "I can't keep missing out on her life. I won't. She's thirteen and she doesn't know me at all. Pretty soon she won't care to."</p>
<p><i>Damn you and your damn father card</i>. "Okay," she says frustratedly, looking down at their regulation boots lined up toe to toe. "Okay. You didn't think to tell anyone?"</p>
<p>"Jim knows," he says offhandedly.</p>
<p>"Of <i>course</i> he does," she spits out, suddenly as furious as ever as her eyes snap up to his face.</p>
<p>He spreads his hands out in a <i>what did I do?</i> gesture. "He's captain of the ship!"</p>
<p>"And you wouldn't take one step if you didn't have the Jim Kirk seal of approval." She brushes past him to sit on the bed, lamenting the size of his quarters that leave her with nowhere else to go.</p>
<p>"What does <i>that</i> mean?"</p>
<p>She shakes her head. That's one fight that's not worth fighting; she wouldn't even consider it if she were thinking clearly. "It means you should have told your girlfriend before you made a life-changing decision."</p>
<p>"I'm telling you now," he says, sitting next to her.</p>
<p>"So, what? You're done with being in space and it's 'see you later, Christine, thanks for all the sex'?"</p>
<p>"Of course not," he grits through his teeth.</p>
<p>"Then what am I supposed to do here? Did you even think about me at all, or did I just not factor into your <i>carefully thought-out</i> plan? Tell me, because I'm interested-"</p>
<p>"You're supposed to marry me!" he yells over her, stopping her in her tracks.</p>
<p>"Don't," she says before she can think, vaulting off the bed.</p>
<p>"Don't what?" He looks up at her, his eyebrows gathered in the middle.</p>
<p>She's wondered, before, if they'd ever make it to this point. And, sure, maybe she's pictured how it'd happen a time or two. She's never imagined it coming with strings - <i>give up everything you've ever worked for</i>. She's never imagined saying anything but yes.</p>
<p>"Just...don't," she says. "In case you've been too busy to notice, I have a job to do here, and I'm nowhere near done."</p>
<p>"Christine," he starts, grabbing her hand, but she can't listen to his justifications. She won't.</p>
<p>She pulls her hand out of his grasp. "You think I want to end up another one of your ex-wives, taking care of your kid when you decide you've had enough?"</p>
<p>"Don't bring my kid into this," he snarls, surging to his feet in front of her.</p>
<p>It's ugly, and she knows she should take it back. She stares at him instead, refuses to concede.</p>
<p>He grips her arms, one last advance in a battle that's already lost. "It's simple. Do you want to marry me or not?"</p>
<p><i>Not like this</i>, she thinks. "No" is what she says.</p>
<p>His expression shuts down; he nods, once, and releases her. "I have to pack," he says quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Nurse Chapel."</p>
<p>Christine turns, walks toward the hatch. She doesn't look back.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>True to his word, she sees him tomorrow, and the day after that. It's some kind of cruel joke that keeps her crossing his path in the days before he leaves. <i>Just go</i>, she thinks every time he steps into med bay, avoiding her eyes as diligently as she avoids his. <i>I'll be fine once you leave.</i></p>
<p>She resolutely stays in her quarters when he transports back to Earth, lying on her bed and listening to the shipwide transmission informing everyone that Dr. McCoy has left the ship, Dr. M'Benga has taken his place, effective immediately, Kirk out.</p>
<p>
      <i>Finally.</i>
    </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>He's gone, and she's not fine.</p>
<p>She works her shifts, eats her meals, converses with the staff just like before, but she catches herself watching M'Benga's door at the oddest times, convinced that she'll open it and McCoy will be there with his trademark scowl and acerbic comments about the state of her charts. She takes on extra shifts, works herself to the bone so that when she returns to her quarters and crawls onto her bed, sleep isn't long in coming.</p>
<p>It's been three weeks and she's still righteously angry, still has no doubt in her mind that her decision was the right one. But she isn't fine; not even close.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>"Come in," Kirk calls. Christine enters and lets the hatch swish closed behind her. "Chapel," the Captain says pleasantly. "Thanks for stopping by. I'll be with you in a minute, just want to finish this call." Christine's eyes flit to the screen on the wall, the face registering milliseconds before Kirk says "Sorry about that, Bones, you were saying?"</p>
<p>McCoy glances toward Christine. "Nurse Chapel," he says tightly.</p>
<p>"Dr. McCoy," she nods, wishing another black hole would pop up and spit her out in an alternate universe where she's anywhere but here. Two months is not enough time for this shit.</p>
<p>McCoy's gaze shifts back towards Jim. "Anyway. Jo's birthday, two weeks. I know you can't be here, but I'm supposed to tell you that presents are required."</p>
<p>"Got it, Bones," Kirk says cheerfully.</p>
<p>"No bikes. No tattoos, permanent or otherwise. No piercings. No 'kickass' Romulan ale," McCoy warns. "She's still a kid, Jim, keep that in mind."</p>
<p>"Scout's honor," Kirk swears.</p>
<p>McCoy rolls his eyes. "I gotta go. Tell M'Benga not to burn down the place, wouldya?" He nods curtly at Christine. "Chapel," he says, and then he's gone.</p>
<p>Kirk looks at her, not scrutinizing, simply assessing. She waits for a comment that never comes; instead, he breaks her gaze and says "Have a seat, Chapel, we need to go over this month's inventory."</p>
<p>"Yes sir," she replies, sinking down into the chair across from his with a barely concealed sigh.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>More time passes and it gets easier; at least, she convinces herself that it does. She's working less, sleeping more, and even participating in non-work-related activities in her off hours. She's stopped expecting to see him around every corner. Whether she still hopes to is irrelevant.</p>
<p>Tim from engineering has been ramping up to making a move for weeks, buying her drinks when they bump into each other in the rec center after beta shift and coming into med bay with superficial injuries. He's entirely obvious, but sincere, so when he asks her to dinner she finds herself nodding, saying yes. It's the same meal she'd be eating anyway, so why not do it with company?</p>
<p>He's...nice. He's one of those guys who doesn't have a mean, spiteful bone in his body. He's good at his work, and courteous, and surprisingly intelligent, and if she's honest, she could not be more bored if she tried.</p>
<p>He kisses her when they reach her quarters and she lets him, even kisses back, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. It's a top-notch kiss, objectively speaking. But when she's had kisses that sent her reeling, made her forget her own name, the fact that she's thinking objectively with someone's tongue in her mouth is something of a problem in itself.</p>
<p>"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asks hopefully, and she nods, forces a smile as he steps away with a small wave. She waits until she's shut in her dark quarters, alone, to let out a short, strangled yell of frustration.</p>
<p><i>Okay, get it together</i>, she tells herself. It's not like he's ruined her for all other men, she thinks rationally. It's just going to take time.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>"The bastard has fucking ruined me for all other men," she declares, brandishing her drink wildly for emphasis. Uhura just nods, sips her wine. Christine had shown up at her quarters, saying "do you want to get a drink? I could use many drinks right about now," and Uhura had kindly obliged.</p>
<p>"First, he resigns without telling me. Then, he pulls out that lame-ass excuse for a proposal as if that's going to fix everything. As if I would just leave my life, my livelihood, for someone who doesn't trust me with the simplest details. All that, and I can't even go on a date without thinking about him. How the hell is that fair?"</p>
<p>Uhura glances away, then back to Christine, then to her unpolished nails tapping staccato on the bar. "Jesus, Nyota, just spit it out already!"</p>
<p>Uhura sets her wine glass down, and takes a breath, looking directly at Christine. "You really don't know, do you?"</p>
<p>"Know what?" Christine says irritably.</p>
<p>"Do you remember that night on Galaga?"</p>
<p>"Vaguely. Too many Cardassian Sunrises."</p>
<p>"Then or now?"</p>
<p>"Both," Christine moans, slumping down to lean her cheek against the cool, polished alloy of the bar. "Okay, Galaga. You thought Spock was going to propose, wanted to know what I thought about the...ring. Oh, God." Her head spins from trying to count up the weeks. McCoy had performed surgery on a Galagan on that mission, which meant - "Oh, <i>God</i>," she says again.</p>
<p>Uhura nods, not unsympathetically. "He'd been planning it for a while. He even came to me freaking out about what kind of ring you'd like, so I did some recon."</p>
<p>"How long is 'a while', exactly?"</p>
<p>"I'm not entirely sure, but he bought the ring two weeks before he handed in his resignation."</p>
<p>Christine jolts upright, her head spinning as she jabs a finger in the air in Uhura's direction. "See? SEE. That still leaves the resigning-and-telling-nobody-not-even-his-girlfriend thing. Who does that?"</p>
<p>"I think," Uhura says thoughtfully, "it was easier for him to plan on you saying yes than to entertain the possibility that you'd say no."</p>
<p>"What would you do if Spock pulled that on you?"</p>
<p>"Oh, I'd make his life very, very unpleasant," Uhura responds with a small grin. "Regardless, I thought you should know the details."</p>
<p>"My head hurts," Christine mumbles.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>She wakes up the next day with a hangover, and an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach that has nothing to do with alcohol. The feeling only intensifies when she receives a transmission from Starfleet Medical, accepting her into the MD program for the fall. It's not entirely a surprise - she's one of Starfleet's best and brightest, and they like to promote from within. But she'd honestly almost forgotten she applied. She'd sent the application off months ago, before - well. Just before.</p>
<p>She decides to accept on the spot. She's wanted to be a doctor since before she can remember, and as much as she loves the Enterprise, she could use nothing more than a change of scenery right now.</p>
<p>She tells Kirk first, primarily because he's the captain, but also because she knows he'll be happy for her. He hugs her and offers congratulations, his eyes and smile equally bright. "It'll be a shame to lose you," he says.</p>
<p>"I'm not going for a few weeks," she reminds him.</p>
<p>"I know. I'm feeling abandoned already." She wonders if there's more truth to that than he lets on; she's always suspected there's more to Kirk than anyone knows. "Come back to us when you're all doctored up, yeah?" he says with a hand on her shoulder.</p>
<p>"Try and stop me," she replies.</p>
<p>"Christine," he says when she turns to leave. "Despite everything, he'd be proud." She doesn't need to ask who he means. She doesn't care, anyway.</p>
<p>She doesn't.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Her final weeks on the Enterprise pass in a blur, and she's standing in the transporter room before she knows it, her bag slung over her shoulder and a good portion of the crew crowded around her. Scotty kisses her hand, gallantly, like he's watched too many old holovids and is feeling inspired. Uhura wraps her in a warm hug, makes her promise to message back soon.</p>
<p>Jim just gives her this look before she leaves and says "He's the only Dr. McCoy in Georgia, you know," and if it sounded like an order from her Captain, this would be an <i>all due respect, sir, but kindly fuck the hell off</i> moment. But they've become friends over the years, closer in the past few months than she ever would have expected because, well, isn't there supposed to be a Taking of Sides and Shunning of Best Friends' Exes? But he's been nothing but supportive, and he's asking her as a friend, so she merely kisses him on the cheek and mutters that she'll think about it before stepping onto the pad.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>She spends the first week adamantly not thinking about it. Once she's home she's up to her eyeballs in friends and family that she hasn't seen since before she joined up. It's good to reconnect, even if it's entirely fueled by her avoidant tendencies. But when her grandmother pats her cheek and asks if she left a "nice fella" back on the ship, she figures that's as much of a sign as she's going to get, so she buys some credits and heads for Georgia the next day.</p>
<p>She walks to his house from the transporter station, in need of the extra time to think about what the hell she's going to say. <i>Hi? Nice weather you're having - we had an eco malfunction that made it feel like the Bahamas last week? Sorry I called you a miserable excuse for a husband and a father that one time?</i></p>
<p>She keeps walking along wide, tree-lined streets toward the edge of town, kicking rocks like she's five again. There's something about the climate here, the charged, muggy atmosphere foretelling an oncoming storm, that makes her think of Sunday evenings on her front porch swing in a time before Starfleet, when she still felt like anything was possible.</p>
<p>She turns onto his street, convincing herself it's not going to be as bad as she's imagining. She'll get in, make the apologies she needs to make, stay just long enough to make Kirk happy, and get out. Off to San Francisco and the rest of her life without any regrets weighing her down.</p>
<p><i>Right</i>.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>He isn't there, which is almost enough to make her turn and run back the way she came, chalk it up to bad timing and send him an apology transmission once she's safely three thousand miles away. But she's had enough of being a coward, so she sits on his porch, tucks her knees to her chest, and waits.</p>
<p>She has her eyes closed, breathing in the smell of the air when she hears the faint rumble of a car. She lifts her head to see him cut the engine and exit, his lab coat slung over one arm and an indescribable look on his face.</p>
<p>It's been too long since she's seen him in daylight, she realizes with a start. It agrees with him, the golden-brown skin of his forearms and the way even the gray, gloomy light glints off certain strands of his hair. She stands up, rubbing her hands nervously down the sides of her shorts as he approaches. "Hi," she says with a small wave.</p>
<p>"Hi," he says warily.</p>
<p>"Looks like rain," she offers. <i>Start with the weather. Always a solid choice. God, Christine.</i></p>
<p>"Storm's coming," he agrees, climbing the steps and brushing by her. "Come in if you'd like," he tosses over his shoulder.</p>
<p>She'd like to be anywhere but here, but she follows him through the screen door nonetheless.</p>
<p>It's a simple, one-level house, sparsely decorated save a picture of Joanna on the mantle and an old guitar in the corner. He tosses his lab coat across the back of the couch, motioning for her to have a seat. She takes the chair across the room while he leans against the arm of the couch and eyes her coolly. "What are you doing here?" he asks, not altogether unkindly. Maybe they can be civil after all, she thinks.</p>
<p>She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, clears her throat. "I got into Starfleet Medical. Classes start in two weeks."</p>
<p>"That explains what you're doing on the damn <i>planet</i>. What are you doing <i>here</i>, in my house?"</p>
<p>
      <i>So much for civil.</i>
    </p>
<p>"I was down seeing family in Louisiana. Thought I'd stop by on my way back. Jim says hi," she finishes lamely.</p>
<p>"I'll bet he does," McCoy says, his eyes narrowing. "Well, hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but California's the other way."</p>
<p>"I wanted to see you, all right?" she snaps, because if he's going to be an insufferable bastard, then two can play that game.</p>
<p>His mouth twists. "Interesting. You couldn't seem to get away from me fast enough six months ago."</p>
<p>Christine jumps to her feet, all thoughts of apologizing temporarily out the window. "Oh, that's fucking <i>rich</i>, coming from you! Resigns his commission without bothering to tell his girlfriend, and I'm the one running away," she says sharply.</p>
<p>"I asked you to marry me, for God's sake!" he says, getting to his feet as well.</p>
<p>"No, you really didn't," she says as she paces, waving her hand around for emphasis. "You didn't <i>ask</i>. You <i>expected</i>. You tell me I'm supposed to marry you, like that's going to fix everything. Nevermind that I have my own career to think about."</p>
<p>His arms tighten across his chest. "Right, <i>your career</i>. Tell me, how long ago did you get your acceptance letter?"</p>
<p>Christine stops pacing. "A month ago. What does it matter?"</p>
<p>McCoy crosses to stand in front of her. "Application process is half a year, at least. You want to talk about being honest and making plans together, I'm listening, really."</p>
<p>She looks up at him. "Nothing was decided yet. I was going to tell you when I got in."</p>
<p>"Sound familiar?" he asks, taking her answering scowl as permission to continue. "And while we're airing all of our issues, don't fucking tell me I proposed to stop us fighting. If you think that-"</p>
<p>"I don't," she interrupts, laying a hand on his forearm. "I know about the ring."</p>
<p>His eyes flash to hers for a moment before his expression shuts down again. "Yeah, well. Sold it the day I got home, so it doesn't matter."</p>
<p>"Of course it does," she says fiercely.</p>
<p>He looks down, stares at her hand on his skin. "What do you want from me?" His voice is hoarse, makes her throat constrict in response.</p>
<p>"I wanted...to apologize. I hate how we left things."</p>
<p>"Could have done that from California," he points out.</p>
<p>"I thought it'd go better in person. Obviously, I was wrong." She takes a step back, lets out a small gasp when he grabs her wrist to keep her in place.</p>
<p>"I don't buy it," he says. "There's something else. What is it?"</p>
<p>"Nothing! I-I don't know!" She twists her wrist experimentally in his grasp and he lets go, but his eyes stay on hers, sure and steady.</p>
<p>"Those are two different things, honey. Best make up your mind."</p>
<p>"It's been months and I'm still so mad at you I can't even see straight."</p>
<p>"Feeling's mutual."</p>
<p>"But I keep looking at M'Benga's office expecting to find you. I can't sleep unless I've worked back-to-back shifts and am too delirious to think, because I fucking miss you and I <i>can't stand it</i>-"</p>
<p>"God<i>damn</i> it," he bites out before crowding into her space and hauling her up against him, his mouth hot and resolute on hers.</p>
<p>Christine feels coiled-up tension release in her chest as she makes desperate noises in the back of her throat, clutches at his shirt to keep him in place. Regardless of the fact that she still wants to punch him in his stupid face, this is the most right she's felt in months.</p>
<p>"Damn it," he says again, roughly, bringing his hand up to palm her cheek. "Every damn day since I left, Christine, I mean it--"</p>
<p>"I know." Her voice shakes, doesn't sound like her own. "Me too." She reaches up to twine her arms around his neck, his grip lifting her onto her toes as he presses his forehead to hers. He kisses her hard, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth and biting down, marking her like he has a hundred times before. Like she thought he never would again. She gives back as good as she gets, digging one hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and biting back. He grabs at her ass and that's all the encouragement she needs, hopping up and locking her legs around him. There are times when being petite is a drag, case in point, attempting to sedate a security officer roughly twice her size? No fun at all. But when it allows for crazy hot doctor ex-boyfriends to hoist her up with one hand and drag her tank up and over her head with the other, she chooses to count her blessings.</p>
<p>It's possible she's actually forgotten how big his hands are, how he manages to be everywhere at once, his tongue stroking hers and his hands undoing her bra while his feet stagger them down the hallway to his bedroom.</p>
<p>"For the record," she gasps as he puts a knee on the mattress and tips her back onto the bed, "I did not come here for this."</p>
<p>He straddles her legs and studies her almost clinically. "Is that so," he says, bringing her hands up next to her head. She instinctively wraps her fingers around the slats of the headboard, bracing herself for whatever onslaught he has planned. He leans forward on one hand, runs the fingers of the other down her arm, over the side of her breast. "Tell me to stop and I will," he promises, flipping his hand over, teasing her nipple with his thumb. "I won't touch you again."</p>
<p>She bucks her hips against him, shaking her head because she believes he'd do it. "You're such a bastard," she says breathlessly.</p>
<p>He laughs - actually <i>laughs</i>, she could happily kill him right now - and mouths at the spot where her jawline meets her ear. "So you've said," he observes, his voice a low rumble in her ear. "Repeatedly." His hand skims down her torso, over the plane of her stomach. He presses open-mouthed kisses to her overheated skin, marking a downward path as his hands work the button of her shorts. "Up," he says, prompting her to surge up, knocking him back on his haunches and settling into his jean-clad lap. There's a tangle of legs as he peels her shorts down and helps her kick them away, leaving her in her decidedly non-regulation red bikinis - his favorites, she suddenly remembers, and is she sure she wasn't planning this since the moment she got up this morning? - with one knee on the mattress and the other leg hooked around his back. She grinds down experimentally on the seam of his jeans and he groans. He works a hand between them, moving the fabric of her underwear aside, testing her. "That's my girl," he says approvingly upon finding her wet and ready. "Jesus, Christine, I need to-"</p>
<p>He needs the same thing she does, so she strips his shirt off and fumbles with his belt. "We'll do it right," he promises as she helps him shuck his jeans down just enough. "Later, I swear, but right now, <i>God</i>-" He trails off, thrusting against her as she grips him firmly with one hand, shoves his boxers down with the other.</p>
<p>She buries her head in the crook of his neck, feels her eyes sting as she wonders if there's really going to be a <i>later</i>. "Now" is all she says, guiding him to her. He thrusts in, up, and she exhales sharply, digging her nails into his shoulder. He fists a hand in her hair, his hips catching a rhythm as he moans, rumbles out nonsense in her ear. She squeezes her eyes shut tight, her mouth working against the skin of his neck.</p>
<p>She starts to come apart all too soon, letting out a soft exclamation as she shudders in his arms, feels her spine go loose and liquid. She expects him to follow right behind, but he stills, eases her onto her back. "Again," he tells her, bracing one arm next to her head and brushing his lips against hers, briefly. It's the gentleness as much as his fingers on her, the steady pressure of him inside her, that makes her body obey, clenching and releasing in time with his litany of "come on, that's it, there you go." Her back arches off the mattress as she rides it out. His pace quickens and he comes with a choked-off "Chris-", hanging his head to press his forehead against her collarbone.</p>
<p>She brings a shaky hand up to run through his hair, down the side of his face. He makes a muffled noise against her skin, but doesn't seem all that inclined to move, which suits her just fine. She knows the minute he does they'll have to deal with reality, and she's much more content to stay here, where he's silent and sated and hers. A flash of lightning illuminates him for an instant, followed shortly by a clap of thunder, signs of the storm that has finally broken.</p>
<p>He eventually lifts his head, kissing her lazily, thoroughly, before extricating himself and rolling to the side. He sits up on the edge of the bed, glancing back at her. "You're a mess."</p>
<p>She takes quick stock of herself, naked except for her underwear and one sad sandal still dangling from her foot, and rolls her eyes. "You're one to talk," she shoots back. His hair is sticking up every which way, his lips looking red and bitten, and hey, at least she managed to make it out of her damn <i>pants</i>.</p>
<p>She kicks her lone sandal to the floor and does a cursory survey of the room for her shirt as he tucks himself back into his jeans and zips up. "Here," he says, tossing her his shirt. She dives into it gratefully, resisting the urge to bury her nose in the neckline and breathe in. His brows furrow and he looks at her quizzically, like he's just realized that he's not quite sure what planet she's from and thinks he's probably better off not knowing. "Christine-" he starts, cuts himself off. "What the <i>hell</i>," he says on an exhale.</p>
<p>She shrugs. "I told you, this wasn't my idea."</p>
<p>The bedsprings squeak as he stands up. "You stay here," he says, gesturing to the bed. "I'm gonna go over...here."</p>
<p>He crosses the room, throws the window open to let the rain-soaked air rush through the screen.  When he's taken a deep breath, he sits wearily in the armchair next to the window, leaning his elbows on his knees. She sits up straight and settles into the middle of the bed, crossing her legs and pushing her hair behind her ears. "Okay."</p>
<p>"Okay," he echoes. "Just give me a minute."</p>
<p>She nods, listens to the rain tap against the rooftop as she waits for him to speak.</p>
<p>"Look," he finally says, "if this was a 'for old times' sake, what the hell' kind of thing, that's fine, but I'd like to know."</p>
<p>"Oh, fuck you," she says frustratedly, shoving the sheets off her legs and swinging her feet over the side of the bed.</p>
<p>"Okay!" he says, holding his hand up in the universal sign for <i>I surrender, and also, I'm a jerk.</i> She may have added that last part. "Sorry. Sit down."</p>
<p>She does, scowling. "I didn't plan any of this, all right?"</p>
<p>"I believe you. I'm just trying to make sense of it."</p>
<p>Christine lets out a short laugh. "Join the club." A roll of thunder seems to shake the room. "Look, honestly, I just came to apologize for what I said to you. It was awful and unfair, and I'm sorry. No other motives, I promise."</p>
<p>McCoy nods, drumming his fingers against his knee. "It's just as much my fault, though. I fucked everything up with how I left."</p>
<p>"We both did," she says.</p>
<p>"So, this is...?"</p>
<p>She shrugs. "I miss you," she says simply. "I've missed you ever since you left. Can't seem to stop."</p>
<p>"But you said no," he insists. "I know it was a shitty way for me to ask-" McCoy looks at the glare on her face and concedes. "Okay, so I didn't <i>ask</i> in so many words. But you still said no. Trust me, I remember that part very clearly."</p>
<p>There are a million things she could say, explanations she could give that would make perfect sense, she knows. She doesn't offer any of them.</p>
<p>She crosses the room to climb in his lap, wedging her knees on the outside of his thighs and settling back on his legs. "Ask me," she says.</p>
<p>"What?" He looks at her like she's grown an extra head.</p>
<p>All the nerve that's propelled her across three states and one bedroom starts to fail her. "If you don't want to...I mean, if it's over for you-"</p>
<p>"It's never been over," he says with an intensity that steals her breath.</p>
<p>"Okay," she says shakily. "So we did it badly the first time. Nobody in this room is arguing that."</p>
<p>He arches his eyebrow, conceding the point.</p>
<p>"I thought you expected me to give up my life to follow you, and I wasn't willing to do that."</p>
<p>"I never wanted you to," he argues.</p>
<p>"I know," she says calmly, running one hand through his hair. "I was wrong, and stupid. I should have trusted you more than that. But you should have trusted me, too. We both deserved more."</p>
<p>He doesn't say anything, simply rests his hands on her legs and waits for her to continue.</p>
<p>"So I'm going to go to San Francisco and you're going to stay here. I want to be able to live my life and finish everything I've had planned for myself, and I want you to have time with Jo." She leans her forehead against his. "But I also want <i>you</i>. I've tried doing without you and it's possible, but it sucks. I hate it. I'm going to Starfleet, and I'm probably going back into space after that, but I'm taking some of you with me if I have to propose to you my own self."</p>
<p>He stares back at her and for one brief, terrifying moment, she thinks he's going to refuse. He finally shrugs one shoulder and says, "California's not much of a transporter trip. I can buy some extra credits, come spend the weekends."</p>
<p>"You hate transporters."</p>
<p>"If getting my molecules all mixed around every day is what it takes, I'll still consider myself lucky," he says. "But I'm not getting down on my goddamn knee," he adds on a growl.</p>
<p>"I didn't think you would," she says, rolling her eyes. "Just fucking ask me already." She tempers her demand with a kiss.</p>
<p>"Will you-" he starts.</p>
<p>"Yes," she says vehemently.</p>
<p>"Let me finish, at least," he grumbles against her mouth. "Will you marry me?"</p>
<p>"Yes, baby." Christine wraps her arms around his neck. "Yes."</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>An hour later, Christine has moved just enough to sling her legs over the side of the chair and rest her head on McCoy's shoulder. She knows they should get up, make some calls, start making plans, but for now she's perfectly fine dozing in his arms with the rain pattering outside.</p>
<p>"I guess we're going to need rings," she finally says, lifting her head to look at him.</p>
<p>"You can have the first one, if you want it." He skims his fingers lightly over her knee. "Took it to the pawn shop the day I got back, but I couldn't hand it over. I guess I never gave up, not really."</p>
<p><i>I'm a nurse, damn it. A soon-to-be-doctor</i>, she tells herself firmly. <i>I'm not going to cry</i>. "I want to see it."</p>
<p>He slides out from under her, depositing her back in the armchair. He crosses the room to the dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out a small drawstring bag.</p>
<p>She holds out her hand and he tips the bag over, letting the ring tumble out onto her palm.</p>
<p>"Uhura does good work," Christine says appreciatively. She holds it up between her thumb and forefinger, inspecting it for a moment before sliding it onto her left ring finger and smiling brilliantly up at him, feeling like her face could crack. "Good luck getting rid of me now," she says.</p>
<p>"Not a damn chance," he swears, bending at the waist to kiss her with one heavy hand on her neck and the other entwined with hers, his fingers catching on the sparkling stone. He kneels down to get on her level, encasing her left hand with both of his and pulling it to his chest.</p>
<p>"Look at that. Got you on your knees after all."</p>
<p>"Honey, you've had me on my knees since day one. You just didn't know it."</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Kirk is the first person they call. McCoy gets on first, says "got a surprise for you, you scheming son of a bitch," and pulls on Christine's hand so she tumbles down into his lap. Jim whoops when he sees her. "Christine, nice to see you," he says, attempting to pull his face into some sort of decorous expression.</p>
<p>"Hi, Jim," she says with a grin.</p>
<p>"Cut it out," McCoy grouses at them. "If I didn't hate you so much right now, this would be the part where I asked you to be my best man. As it is-"</p>
<p>"Shit, Bones, you guys are getting married? Seriously?" Kirk glances down at his switchboard. "Where are the shipwide comms?"</p>
<p>"Oh, hell no," McCoy says. "Jim, we just wanted to tell you, not the whole damn ship."</p>
<p>"It's a family affair, Bones! We're a <i>family</i>, in case you've forgotten."</p>
<p>"<i>You're</i> forgetting who backed up your sorry ass during three years at the Academy. Put me on shipwide comms and I start storytelling, Jim, I swear it."</p>
<p>Christine swears Jim turns a little green. "Fine, fine, be that way," he says dismissively, and Christine knows it'll be all over the Enterprise as soon as they hang up.</p>
<p>"Tell Nyota, though," she interjects. "And tell her - thanks."</p>
<p>"Oh, sure, <i>you</i> get to call her Nyota." He gives them what can only be described as a very uncaptainly pout.</p>
<p>"Jim." McCoy waits until Jim focuses in on him. "Thanks, man. I mean it."</p>
<p>"Anytime, Bones."</p>
<p>"Do it again and I'll rip your head off."</p>
<p>"Noted."</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>At the end of the day, after she's been fed and showered, Christine curls up against him on the porch swing. The storm has passed and they're left with a clear night, crickets chirping and a crescent moon overhead. "I'd like for Jo to be there," McCoy says. "If that's all right."</p>
<p>Christine nods against his shoulder. "They have courthouses in Atlanta, or so I've heard."</p>
<p>He looks down at her. "Don't you want a wedding? White dress, the whole bit?"</p>
<p>She shrugs. "We can have a party when the Enterprise has shore leave. You, me, and Jo will be fine for the ceremony."</p>
<p>"God, I love you," he says, emphatically enough that she has to laugh, even as her heart leaps in her throat.</p>
<p>"I'm glad, because otherwise I'd be feeling really foolish about now."</p>
<p>They swing in silence for a moment before he speaks again. "You know, I've sat out here a lot since I got back."</p>
<p>"I can see why, it's peaceful."</p>
<p>He nods. "I always sat on one side, stretched my arm out across the back of the swing. Really pissed myself off when I realized what I was doing."</p>
<p>"What was that?"</p>
<p>"Waiting for you. Picturing you here."</p>
<p>Okay. Maybe she cries a little at that.</p>
<p>
      <i>end</i><br/>
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